The Matthew Reilly Award
by Theodore Barrington
Summary: The glitz,the glamor,the ridiculously white teeth...It's the Matthew Reilly Awards night and all your favorites are there! Nominees Jack West and Scarecrow argue over who should get the biggest award of the night....


**Pan Macmillan Hall**

**14 May 9:15 pm.**

It going to be a big night- no not big- momentous. Over a thousand were crammed into the small auditorium that was Pan Macmillan Hall, naturally. After all, this was the event of the year. Tonight was the premiere of Matthew Reilly's book-to-film masterpiece _Complex 13_. Not only that but Matthew Reilly himself would be there to present several awards including the _Most Spectacular Death _award, the _Funniest Call-sign _award and of course, the eagerly anticipated _YOU GOT BALLS _award. While waiting for the ceremony to start, some sat at the tables sampling the various canapés and hors d'oeuvres that were being brought round, while others mingled over various drinks. There were some recognizable faces present, basking in the glitz and the glamour – the press was sure to have a field day. There was Dr. Maxwell 'Wizard' Epper, Gunnery Sergeant Gena 'Mother' Newman and her husband, David Fairfax and even a few Hoodayas showed up. It _was_ going to be big.

A middle aged, balding man stepped up to the microphone and called for attention.

"Yes…uh…Ladies, Gentleman…and ...uh..something….Mister Reilly will begin presenting the awards in 15 minutes. After that, the main course will arrive, before the screening of…uh…_Complex 13._ Er….thankyou."

***

Meanwhile, in a secluded area, several men waited in the elegantly furnished room. This was a private room for the nominees of the _YOU GOT BALLS _award. A tall, dark haired, handsome man in his early thirties stood by the fireplace, reading the program for the nights procedures. He was dressed in the full US Marine ceremonial uniform, complete with sword. He also had a little extra something. A pair of silver, wrap-around anti-flash sunglasses, making him an impressive and mysterious figure. This man was none other than Captain Shane M. Schofield of the US Marine Corps, call-sign; _Scarecrow_.

"Scheduled for 10:00pm is the presentation of the _YOU GOT BALLS _award. Author Matthew Reilly will determine which of the four character nominees is most deserving of the award for their

bravery in the field," he read aloud, then added, "I guess that'll be me."

"Izzat so?"

A second man walked- almost swaggered- up to the Marine. Captain Jack West Junior, AKA _Huntsman_, the Australian leader of the 'small nation' alliance of minnows. He was dressed in a blood red tux and trousers, with black polished leather shoes and a matching tie. Even his bionic arm was now chrome-plated and polished.

"You bloody Yanks. All the same aren't ya! Think cause you got one of the biggest countries you can push us around. Well I got news for you mate. You aren't the only one in this room with a pair!"

Schofield turned to the Australian and raised an eyebrow.

"And who are you exactly?" he began, "I mean come-one, I'm Shane effin Schofield. I'm the Matthew Reilly's original badass. I've done stuff that they don't even do in the movies...usually. Like the time I got away from the bad guys by…let's see now, I flooded a Typhoon class Sub-marine, blew up a building and then launched a ballistic missile into the same complex I was trying to escape from! Or how about when I used some string and two liquid nitrogen charges to take out like half a platoon of British SAS troops? Or when I came back from the dead? Top that."

Jack West Jnr did not look the least bit impressed.

"Well…there was the time when I attacked a whole mess of yanks atop the Great pyramids, to save Lilly. Then I stormed a supposedly impregnable Chinese prison to save the_ Wizard_, practically single handed. I was also nearly crushed by ten tonnes of rock, but managed to survive."

" Well I saved the President's life!"

"I mastered the Tartarus Rotation!"

"Who cares about some Tartar sauce thingy? If the president's heart stopped beating, 14 nukes would have detonated in 14 states."

"It's called the Tartarus Rotation, moron. It makes a whole country invincible for a thousand years. I managed to give Australia the power instead, and we posed no threat because we didn't know about it."

"I retrieved one of the most advanced Stealth Bombers ever. It uses a plutonium core to become completely invisible to the naked eye!"

"Not bad, but I discovered the Hanging Gardens of Babylon! Now that's awesome!"

"Awesome? Huh! Awesome is having a pair of neat shades like these," boasted Schofield, pointing at his glasses. "Instead of a lame-o fireman's helmet. Gee, that's just too cool….not!"

"At least I don't have a lame call-sign. I mean seriously…_Scarecrow?_ What's so intimidating about a straw stuffed dummy? Not even the crows fall for that! Now _Huntsman_, that's a good one."

"Hey, you know just as well as I do that you can't pick your call-sign. And Scarecrowcomes from these bad boys," said the marine and whipped off his glasses, exposing the vertical scars that ran over both eyes. "I was shot down over Serbia. They captured me and then tortured me. I was nearly permanently blinded. Even though they restored my sight, I could never fly a plane for the military again. Then I went and trained in the infantry and went on to command my very own recon unit."

"Well I plunged my left arm into lava to save my friend and the daughter of the Oracle. She's one of the only two people able to read the Word of Thoth, which helped us find the Capstones to prevent the enemy becoming invincible. And my friend the Wizard built be this fella," replied West, flexing his bionic arm. "You think you're the only one who's had odds stacked against him?"

"As a matter of fact West, yes I do! I've gone through stuff that you wouldn't believe!"

"Try me."

"Have you ever had an $18.6 million bounty on your head, which hundreds of mercenaries were after your blood to get?"

" Can't say that I have. But my own farm was attacked by virtually the whole Chinese Army. Literally thousands of paratroopers were landing in my backyard for one bloody rock! How about you? Have you ever faced booby traps that would make Indianna Jones curl up into a featal position and cry for his mummy?"

"No, but I have watched the effects of a Sinorvirus, that literally make the victim's internal organs liquefy and spew out every open cavity in the body. Have you ever been man-hunted in the dark with crossbows while your opponent has NV goggles?"

"I must have been sick the day we did that. I evacuate the Burj Al Arab tower just before a kamikaze pilot destroyed it."

Shane had to admit that he was impressed by that one. But he could still get the edge.

"Yeah…and how much emotional crap have you had to struggle through? At least your girlfriend is still alive. Elizabeth died just before I could propose to her," he said with more than a hint of bitterness.

"That's tough. But I found out that my own dad has been trying to kill me. And at least you didn't receive the decapitated head of one of your best men in a hatbox. Gift-wrapped."

"No, I was lucky enough to only have to watch one of my best men eaten alive by freakin' killer whales!" Schofield shuddered at the memory. "The same whales that then took the leg off _Mother_ Newman. Now there's a woman with a pair. She took on two guys that were both bigger than her on a conveyer belt. She should be a pro wrestler."

"Well if you get on _Sky Monster_'s plane without permission, you'd better just jump out while you can. 350 pounds of pure kiwi could make a grizzly think twice. And that's without the shotgun."

Schofield rolled his eyes. Once again he decided that they were both too evenly matched. Time to try yet a different approach. From an undisclosed location, he pulled out what appeared to be a Tommy-gun- straight out of the 1920's, with two pistol grips. But unlike a regular gun, a grappling hook was housed in the muzzle.

"Armalite MH-112 Maghook," he said with a flourish. "This baby uses compressed gas to fire the hook at speeds up to and over 60mph. The hook is also magnetized so that it can stick to metallic surfaces as well. No good soldier should be without one."

West smirked. "Who needs a rope when you have wings? I got a carbon fibre glider that can carry the weight of two grown men. Unfortunately, I left it at home." He then produced a small metallic box. "This is a Warbler. It creates an electromagnetic field that deflects bullets and even crossbow bolts. No worries."

Scarecrow felt his face burning. Not only did he have a nifty gadget, but this idiot from Australia had _two!_

"Well as long as we're playing the numbers game, Matthew Reilly wrote four books about me! How many did you get? Like what….two?"

"Technically _Hell Island_ isn't actually a canon story as it was written for _Books Alive_. It's like those alternate reality things they have in the comics. And, I'll have you know that Mr. Reilly is finishing my with my third book _The Five Greatest Warriors_which is coming out in Australia 20th October 2009 and January in 2010 for the US. See? Australia is better –plus- it's his home country!"

[NB: Oooookay….I think I probably got a little carried away with letting him break the fourth wall with that little tidbit. Oh well, that's product placement for you!]

It was about then that they realised that they weren't alone in the room. A younger man, probably in his late twenties. This was Professor William Race, a linguist from New York University and nominee of the _YOU GOT BALLS_ award. He had been sitting in an armchair listening to the both soldier's chronic case of one-upmanship, unnoticed. As they set their eyes upon him, they both thought the same thing. Here was a third-party, who had heard both arguments and could decide which one of them was most deserving of the prize.

"You there," said Schofield. "What do you think?"

"Yeah, who do reckon should get the award?"

Race began to feel uncomfortable with these two titans of military legend staring at him, expecting an answer.

Fine.

They wanted his opinion, they would get it.

"Actually I think _he_ should win!"

Both men turned their gaze in the direction that he was pointing. Sitting across from him in the other chair, fast asleep, was none other than Dr. Stephen Swain. With his greying hair and white lab coat, he wasn't exactly the person you would pick as the pioneer.

"Doctor Swain gets my vote," said Race to the disbelieving military men. "I mean hey, he was the first out of all of us here to have to fight for his life on a crazy adventure. The guy was _just_ getting over his wife being killed by a drunk driver, when a gang of yobs busted into the hospital he was working in and he fought them off. He was unarmed, while they had semi-automatics and rifles and stuff. Then he had to battle it out with freakin' _aliens_, while trapped in the state library. That guy is one tough nut."

Uh-oh.

Both West and Schofield turned on Race.

"Him? You've got to be bloody kidding me mate! All he really did was let these aliens kill each-other off then nick off?"

"Yeah," agreed Scarecrow. "Sure he was the first, but his book sucked. It was _Ice Station_ that put Reilly on the map! Which reminds me, what exactly is it that you do?"

"Linguistics."

"What languages?"

"Well…Incan mainly….some Greek….a little Latin…"

"Psh! My Lily already knows 6 languages, including the Word of Thoth and she hasn't even hit puberty yet!"

"Well…I…uh…the jungle…"

But West cut him off.

"Ha! You wouldn't know a hero when you see one! You probably took one look at the jungle and went home crying!"

"How could a whiney little nerd like this possibly be a contender for this award anyway?" Schofield taunted. That was that. William Race had enough. He snapped! Standing up, he faced both men and let them have it.

"How could I be a contender? How could I be a contender? Well let's see about that then shall we?

I was hired by the DARPA to translate a manuscript. I thought that would be all, no trouble. BUT NO!!

Instead I had nihilistic terrorists, Neo- Nazis _and_ three factions of the US army trying to kill me! Apparently the idol is made out of an element that could power a weapon that would literally blow up one whole third of the world! Boat chases, explosions and people getting shot to bits are all well and good when you're trained for it! But seeing as I'm just a 'whiney little nerd', that's a helluva lot for someone whose only experience with violence is college football team try-outs! You guys had all these guns and gadgets when all I had was a lousy manuscript and a damn baseball cap! I even plummeted 60,000 ft _in a tank_ for goodness sake, while some guy was trying to get inside to put a bullet between my eyes! And that was just the humans!" Race paused for a moment to regain his breath.

"Have you ever seen a Rapa? It's like a leopard but twice as big and about a hundred times nastier. Rip you to shreds in under ten seconds, faster than you can get your gun up! Now multiply that by about two hundred and you get an idea of what I was facing, trapped in a temple with 'em! One of the only ways to stop them from killing you is to cover yourself in monkey urine!

And what about the Caiman infested river? Bigger than your average alligator! And they can rip through a military plane like it was a waffle.

"And yeah….I've even had a little emotional crap too! My ex was on the expedition as well. As it turned out, she was married _to my own brother_! And then I found out that she was having an affair on the side, with the guy who happened to help execute both of them when the guys who hired me turned against me!"

Schofield and West just stood there, staring at their shoes….

The night wore on and awards were given out. Finally Matthew Reilly stood up to hand out the _YOU GOT BALLS_ award.

"Good evening ladies and gentleman. This is an award which was basically to be given to one of my characters, who has had to face one problem after another and come out on top. The nominees are:

Doctor Stephen Swain- Contest

Captain Shane Schofield- Ice Station, Area7 and Scarecrow

Professor William Race- Temple

And

Jack West Jr. – Seven Ancient Wonders and Six Sacred stones.

Body counts, explosions and even cool one-liners were all factored in and it was really close. However there can only be one winner. And the winner of the _YOU GOT BALLS_ award is…"

The author paused and waited for the drum-roll to finish.

"ME!"

There was confusion amongst the crowd. An awkward slow clap, which was immediately silenced by a snarling Hoodaya.

"Huh?" said Race.

"What the hell?" said Scarecrow.

"He can't get the award. He wasn't even nominated!" added Huntsman.

"Actually I can boys," replied the author, rather smugly. "I'm Matthew Effin Reilly. I can do whatever I want. I created pretty much everyone in this room, so that makes me the ultimate badass here! The guy who is writing this fanfic is obviously loyal to his fellow writers, so I won. And besides, I could totally sue his butt if I wanted to."

[NB: He has to find me first….ha ha ha!]

He then turned back to the crowd gave them a long hard look, before pulling out a pen and paper.

"You know I can easily write up replacements for you all!" he said pointedly.

Wild applause erupted for Reilly, while the others slunk offstage.

William Race felt a hand grasp his shoulder and he turned to see Dr. Swain standing next to him, smiling warmly.

"I heard everything that was said back there Professor Race. I'm quite flattered that you think so highly of me"

"No problem Doctor."

"Now, if you'll come with me, there's this remarkable young man I'd like you to meet. Name of Jason Chaser."

"Ah. Think he'll be a contender for next years award eh?"

"Exactly. Tell me though…is it true that the properties of that Thyrium stuff actually oscillates at an audible frequency when doused with liquid?"

Meanwhile, the two soldiers were making amends.

"So...your own dad huh? That's pretty rough."

"Yeah. Killer whales eh? Bad way to go."

"You said it. So….wanna go slash Reilly's tyres?"

"I reckon we could go one better then that mate. We just so happened to bring the _Halicarnassus_…"

"Oh really? Say…that gives me an idea. But we'll need a maghook…."

The End

[Admit it: I tricked you. You totally thought it would be Professor Race didn't you…]


End file.
